


Not So Simple

by MaddietheMuse



Series: Twilight Prompt Fills [3]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Baking, Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Could be Bella, Could be Rachel, Could be anyone really, F/M, Food, Gift Fic, Mess, Prompt Fill, kitchen, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddietheMuse/pseuds/MaddietheMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for the lovely Tarina Hinds, who was kind enough to select me as her author of choice in the Tricky Raven author silent auction. xo</p><p>Pairing: Paul and his girl (Tarina was reluctant to assign me a leading lady, so I left it more or less open)</p><p>Prompt: 3 words...  Paul, kitchen, mess/disaster.<br/>When asked about a leading lady her response was simply: 'pft, Pauls's the only requirement. Anyone else is just the sprinkles on top.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Simple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarina Hinds](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tarina+Hinds).



> Pre-reader: maLorLa
> 
> Beta: Maria Vilson
> 
> Disclaimer: The following is based on the characters, settings, and events from the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. All recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The author, known by the pen name Maddie-the-Muse, is in no way associated with Stephenie Meyer, or the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise related to The Twilight series. Only aspects entirely unique and original to this story are owned by this story's author. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

It's her birthday, she needs a fucking cake, right?

 

_Right._

 

So like the fucking genius I am, I decided to make her one, instead of buying one. It would mean more that way right? Yeah, that was my first mistake.

 

That was the thought process that led to me standing in the fucking kitchen looking at the 'Simple Chocolate Cake' recipe I'd found online, wondering how I had managed to convince myself that this was a good idea. I couldn't even claim that I had been drunk when I came up with the idea. Nope. Just fucking gaga over the girl that, thanks to the Great Spirit or who-the-fuck-ever, deemed me worthy of spending her life with.

 

_Alright._

 

Seriously, how could I not want to do something special for her? She had given up everything to take a chance on me. She quit school to stay in this little shit town because I couldn't fucking leave. And she loved me. She really fucking loved me. I don't know how I had managed to get so fucking lucky, but I thanked the Spirits every day for her being in my life. That's what led me down the path on this fool's errand of making a cake from scratch. As long as I kept that in the forefront of my mind, maybe I could get through this.

 

But I never would unless I started.

 

Right. Pre-heat oven to 350°F. That's easy enough.

 

I'd already read the fucking recipe three times. I should have maybe asked Emily or someone for some advice, but I wanted to make this a surprise. Looking back on it, I wished I had asked for help, or gone the easy route of buying a mix.

 

It's not like I'm completely useless in the kitchen—I did manage to not poison myself growing up after all—but following heating instructions on a packaged dinner and baking a cake are two completely different things, it turns out.

 

I beat the butter and sugar together and added the eggs one at a time like the directions said. I hoped that the bits of egg shell that I hadn't been able to find in the bowl would be beat up fine enough that they wouldn't be noticeable. If that was the worst thing that happened, I think I could survive.

 

I didn't really understand why the recipe said to mix the dry ingredients in a different bowl before adding them to the eggs and butter goop. It just seemed like making more dishes dirty unnecessarily to me, and I'll be fucked if I knew how to sift the flour?

 

I reached over to grab the bag of flour off the table, hoping that it wouldn't be lumpy, and I could just skip that step, too. I bought the fancy cake flour—that had to be worth something, right?  The fold on the bag ripped open as I lifted it off the table, and I tried to catch the bag before it yanked out of my hand, but only managed to knock it further away from me. It landed on the floor with a thud, and a jet of flour shot out of the opened mouth of the bag.

 

"Fuck!"

 

I watched in awe as the cloud of fine white dust settled in drifts onto the floor. After a few minutes of mentally berating myself for the stupid fucking move, I went to the back porch and got the broom. I swept up the pile of flour after placing the offending bag, now half empty, on the counter. I figured I'd have to wipe every fucking surface in the kitchen once all the flour that was still making the air hazy had settled.

 

_Fucking great!_

 

I looked at the clock to make sure I would still have enough time to get the cake finished and the kitchen cleaned before she got home, and got back to work.

 

Flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and baking soda, salt—I measured out the rest of the ingredients and stirred the batter together.

 

_Who the fuck knew there was salt in chocolate cake? And what the hell is the difference between baking soda and baking powder anyway?_

 

I'd watched my girl in the kitchen enough times to know that the pan needed to be sprayed with that toxic non-stick shit—she had cursed over stuck on baked goods enough for me to remember that much at least.

 

Putting the cake in the oven and setting the timer, I decided to make the frosting before cleaning up the rest of the mess. I'd already made a disaster area of the counters and, well, the rest of the fucking kitchen too, so I'd get the messy work done first and clean up later.

 

My girl loves peanut butter, so I decided to make chocolate peanut butter frosting. Yeah, like regular frosting wouldn't be hard enough right?

 

              _Always up for a challenge._

 

I took the butter out of the fridge and measured out the right amount—why had I never noticed that butter has cup measurements right on the wrapper before? I turned the mixer on, and tried to beat the butter until soft like the directions said. I'd forgotten to take it out of the fridge though, so it was rock-fucking hard.

 

I thought maybe I could melt it in the microwave a little bit so I could use the beaters to get it fluffy like the recipe said, but of course I put it in too long and it started to fucking melt. It couldn't be that bad, could it? It was still mostly solid. I added the peanut butter and beat them together. I thought it was stupid to add the powdered ingredients a little at a time—what did it matter, they were all going in there eventually anyway—so I measured it all out and put it in the bowl. I understood the logic as soon as I turned on the mixer again and the icing sugar and cocoa went up in a cloud around the counter top, coating me in another fine layer of dust.

 

I turned the mixer off and stirred it together by hand until I thought it would be wet enough to finish with the mixer. I added the milk and it seemed like it was going to be too runny to spread on a cake, so I added a bit more powdered sugar; I'd probably lost enough to make a difference when I made the god-damned mess of the counter.

 

I tasted the frosting once it seemed like it was the right texture and it wasn't half bad if I had to say so myself.

 

              _Maybe this cake wouldn't turn out to be such a disaster after all._

 

The oven timer went off shortly after I finished up with the frosting. I checked it with a toothpick like the instructions said, and it looked done to me, so I pulled it out to cool. I turned my attention to getting the floor swept and started on the massive pile of dishes I'd already made dirty. I still had to ice the damn cake, but my girl wasn't due home for another couple of hours so I still had time to get this kitchen back in order.

 

After I'd managed to get the dishes washed and put away, which seemed to take longer than I had anticipated, I found a plate that the cake would fit on and got out the items I'd need to ice the cake. I'd read a few websites that had tips on icing cakes. I had even bought a bag of mini peanut butter cups to decorate it with. I planned on using them to put her initial or some shit on the cake since I didn't really think I would be able to write happy birthday on the damn thing—even I wasn't that unrealistic about my skill set when it came to baking.

 

I turned the first cake pan over on the plate and lifted up, only to find the cake had stayed in the pan.

 

              _Well, shit. Now what? Wasn't that spray stuff supposed to prevent the cake from sticking?_

 

I ran a knife around the edge of the pan and tried again, and thankfully the cakes both came out mostly intact. I used a little of the frosting to stick the piece that had fallen off back in place and stuck the two cakes together with a layer of frosting in between.

 

              _So far so good._

 

The cake wasn't all the way cooled yet, but I was already going to be cutting it close for time, so I decided to go ahead and get started with the frosting. I hadn't ever frosted a cake before, and I developed a whole new respect for people that do this sort of thing all the time. How the hell did they get the stuff to stick to the side of the cake without sliding down or getting full of crumbs? I managed to get the cake mostly covered in the sticky shit without it all melting into the cake, but it was honestly the ugliest damn cake I had ever seen. I was banking on the fact that I had made it myself to win a few points because I wasn't getting shit for presentation, that was for sure.

 

I poured the mini peanut butter cups out on the counter and spaced out a heart rather than her initial on the top of the cake, which had started to sag a little in the middle. I used the rest of the candies to decorate the edge of the cake; the fact that they hid some of the places the icing had slid off was a bonus, too.

 

A look at the clock on the stove told me I had just over half an hour to get everything cleaned up before she would be home. Hell, if I was lucky I might even have time for a quick shower to get the flour out of my hair.

 

I wiped the counters while the sink filled with water to wash the last few dishes in, and gathered the multiple dirty dish towels and tossed them in the washing machine along with my apron which had more spots covered in chocolate than not covered in chocolate. I was just finishing up the dishes when I heard the car pull up in the driveway. Of course, the one day I could use a few extra minutes and she shows up early.

 

              _Oh well._

 

"Hey, baby. You're home early," I said, wiping my hands on the back of my jeans and meeting her at the door as she came in.

 

"Yeah, Angie let me go early. What are you doing?" she asked, raising her hand to my disheveled hair. A sprinkle of flour snowed out of it at her touch.

 

"I made you something. Come on." I laced my fingers through hers and pulled her behind me. I sat her at the kitchen table and went to collect the monstrously ugly cake from the counter. I took a deep breath before picking it up and turning around.

 

He face lit up when she saw the cake and I knew that I'd actually managed to get this one right despite the crazy disaster I had thought it had turned out to be. I was a few steps from the table when I stepped in the dust left on the floor from where the flour had exploded and I went sliding into the closest chair.

 

"Shit!" I barked as the cake went flying off the plate right toward her. I managed to catch it and get it righted on the plate, with only about half of it being squished in the process.

 

"Oh, Paul!" she whispered, standing up next to me. She bit her lip to stop the giggle that threatened to spill from her mouth. I spent the day working to make something special for her birthday, which had nearly flopped right in her lap—literally—and she was laughing at me? I glowered at her a moment, but it was impossible to stay mad when she looked so happy.

 

I looked at my frosting covered hand, and back at her, all laughter and joy, only a split second before wiping my frosting covered finger down the bridge of her nose.

 

She shrieked and tried to pull away from me, but I held fast to her with my hand around her waist. The kitchen was already a total fucking mess—so was I—and I just couldn't resist her when she laughed like that. If she was going to laugh at me I might as well giver her something real to laugh about and maybe something other than my absolute culinary failure to remember her birthday by.

 

"Are you laughing at me little girl?" I asked, raising my hand again and letting it hover over her cheek.

 

"Paul! Don't!" she cried through peals of laughter. She squirmed in my hold and grabbed hold of my wrist, trying, but failing, to hold my hand away from her face.

 

I traced my chocolate coated finger over her bottom lip, dragging it down and slipping my fingertip into her mouth. She stilled her fidgeting instantly as her eyes flicked up to meet mine and she sucked my finger clean. The mischievous look that took over her face matched the sudden scent of arousal that wafted off of her, flooding my senses as she took a second finger into her mouth.

 

"Fuck, Baby," I moaned as I bent low enough to cup my clean hand under her ass. She hopped up as I lifted her and hooked her knees around my hips while still sucking on my fingers. I turned and walked the few paces across the kitchen so I could sit her on the counter. I pulled my hand free of her mouth, wiping the remaining frosting on the back of my jeans and attacked her mouth.

 

"Chocolate peanut butter," she mused as I lowered my lips to her throat. "my favourite."

 

"Happy birthday, baby," I murmured against her skin before pulling back and pulling her sundress over her head.

 

The kitchen clean-up could wait; I had other things on my mind.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The base image for the banner is a screen cap from this video. Which is absolutely ridiculous, you must watch it. :)
> 
> Miss Tarina, I do so hope you found this little kitchen fiasco to your liking. XO!
> 
> Just in case anyone is wondering, here are the recipes that Paul used in the story. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Simple Chocolate Cake Recipe
> 
> Ingredients – Makes two 8" round cake (24 cupcakes)
> 
> 2 cup white sugar  
> 1 cup butter, room temperature  
> 2 1/4 cups cake flour  
> 2 large eggs  
> 1 cup unsweetened quality cocoa powder  
> 1 Tbsp vanilla extract  
> 2 teaspoon baking soda  
> 1 tsp salt  
> 2 cup cold, strong coffee  
> Directions:
> 
> Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and flour two 8" round pans.  
> Sift together flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.  
> I medium bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.  
> Add eggs one at a time and vanilla and beat well.  
> Add flour mixture in thirds, alternating with the coffee. Mix until just incorporated.  
> Divide evenly between pans. Bake at 350°F for 35-45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.  
> Chocolate Peanut Butter Frosting Recipe
> 
> Ingredients
> 
> 1/3 cup salted butter, room temperature  
> 1/3 cup creamy peanut butter  
> 1-1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract  
> 2-1/2 cups icing sugar  
> 1/3 cup baking cocoa  
> 4 to 5 tablespoons heavy cream  
> Directions
> 
> In a large bowl, cream butter and peanut butter until light and fluffy.  
> Beat in vanilla.  
> Beat in salt, cocoa, and icing sugar ½ cup at a time  
> Add enough milk to achieve a spreading consistency desired.  
> Yield: 1-2/3 cups.


End file.
